Fraudulent Snack Chips
by littlest clouds
Summary: [Just kidding about the angst] Randal and Dante argue about fraudulent snack chips and get held up. Not slash.


Disclaimer: If anything looks really funny, or good, Kevin Smith probably created it. I just borrowed it for a little bit.

Summary: Basically a harmless little Clerks drabble minorly inspired by the short Flying Car film and a conversation I had with AlmightyChrissy about 3-D Doritos.

Rated PG

A/N: Since I pretty much used the 'synposis' for my author's notes, I'll use the A/N section for the synopsis: Randal and Dante argue about fraudulent snack chips and get held up... This is only my second attempt at a Clerks fic... The first (and not-quite successful) attempt was Can't Even Tell, but this one isn't slash.

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(Dante Hicks and Randal Graves are standing behind the counter of the QuikStop. Randall is reading a magazine and trying to open a bag of 3-D Doritos, while Dante is wiping and re-wiping the counter, and spraying it with cleaner, obsessive-compuslively. Randal, after a few minutes of silence, looks up from his porno mag.)

Randal: 3-D Doritos are indeed a snack chip! (Tears open bag.)

Dante: (Scrunches brow.) Randal, it took you five minutes to think up a seven word sentence? (Drops rag on counter.)

Randal: (Frowns at the insult.) I was thinking. Anyway, 3-D Doritos are snack chips. I don't know why you don't have them with the other chips... 

Dante: They are not! They aren't even shaped like real chips! (Pauses to think.) They're more like Bugles. Why don't you put them in the snack food aisle, AWAY from the regular chips. (Wipes counter some more.)

Randal: (Pauses.) Segregating your snack chips. What has the world come to? Tsk tsk tsk. (Opens his 'Shemales in Assless Leather Chaps' magazine. Looks at Dante and shakes head.)

Dante: (Won't let it go.) I organize my snack chips like a good clerk is supposed to. Every day at twelve o'clock noon! (Proudly.)

Randal: And then you go up onto the roof for an hour to play floor hockey. Pardon me, roof hockey. Tsk tsk tsk. What a waste of valuable time that could be spent servicing customers.

Dante: You play too! Who are you to call the kettle black?!

Randal: But no one expects anything of me. YOU, on the other hand, actually have some place you're going in life. Something to achieve. I, on the other hand, am pissing away my life savings on - (checks magazine cover) - Shemales in Assless Leather Chaps, and for what, Dante? A transient hardon? A self-administered hand job?

Dante: You mean masturbation.

Randal: (Grins.) I know, but it sounds cooler when I say it my way. And for what? Who is Randal Graves? Who is Randal Graves to these people? (Gestures to the jingling of the doorbell.)

Man: Gimme all your money now, or you're both fuckin' dead. (Holds out gun.)

Randal: (Toothpick falls out of mouth.)

---

(A few minutes later, Dante, is forced to open the safe and dole out the money.)

Man: Move it, lard-ass. We don't got all fuckin' day! (Waves gun.)

Dante: (Stuffing money into a paper bag.) And I wasn't even supposed to be here today.

Randal: Hey you, with the gun. (Nods to the robber.)

Man: Who, me? (Slightly confused.)

Randal: Yeah you. Do you see anyone else in here, with a gun, Einstein? 

Dante: (Hisses out of the corner of his mouth, as he fills the paper bag.) Randal, what the fuck are you doing?!

Randal: (Addresses Dante as he looks at the robber.) Only engaging this here fine, upstanding young gentleman in an intelligent conversation is all. (To the robber.) Do you like Doritos?

Man: (Pauses. Surprised. Nods tentatively.) Uh yeah, why? (Aims his gun at Randal.)

Randal: (Unfazed.) Do you think these (shakes bag) 3-D Doritos are actually snack chips? Or are they some new, spectacular wonder food that no one has quite found the right label for yet? Or are they something else all together? (Shakes bag.)

Man: (Shrugs.) 3-D Doritos?

Randal: (Nods.) Yuh-huh. (Reaches into bag and drops a couple into his hand.) Taste 'em, they're delish. 

Man: These aren't chips. They're more like Bugles. (Eats them.) Snack food.

Randal: So do you think this here 'snack food', as you call them, belongs in the chip aisle or the snack food aisle? (Pops one into his mouth.)

Man: Well... (Pauses to ponder the question.) I don't know. They're made by the Dorito company, so why don't you just put them with the rest of the Dorito products? (Shrugs.)

Randal: Ah ah ah, now that's where you err, my misguided friend. (Wags finger at him.) The Dorito company is a part of the Frito-Lay company, so if we were to go by your logic, we would have to put all of the products under the Frito-Lay name together, namely the chips with the 3-D Doritos. Dante here wanted to put these chips — pardon me - this snack food in the plain old snack aisle! Can you imagine? It would be like breaking the eleventh commandment - Thou shalt not segregate thy snack chips. Tsk, what a shame. What a sin and a shame.

Man: Are you, like, on drugs?

Randal: Not presently. Why do you ask?

Man: You're talking an awful lot about fraudulent snack chips. You sure sound, to me at least, like you got the munchies.

Randal: (Laughs.) Oh no, I'm not on drugs. I'm just sticking up for those whom are incapable of defending themselves - the 3-D Doritos chips.

Man: (Looks at Dante and then Randal.) Dude, you're fucking messed up. (Walks over to a spinning rack.) I'm going to take a pack of Chewlie's, some condoms and then I'm getting the hell out of here. (Looks at Dante.) You can keep your damn money.

Dante: (Stares at Randal.) You are amazing, simply amazing.

Randal: (Grins, basking in his praise.) You know you want me, my throbbing mansteed. Lose your inhibitions and become my bitch. (Snaps magazine.)

Dante: As appetising as that sounds, Randal, my only inhibition is my damned heterosexuality. On a serious note, though, how didy you know your rant on 3-D Doritos would scare him off?

Randal: I didn't, but judging from the reactions I get from you whenever I prattle on incessantly about any and everything that comes to my mind, you do one of the following: flick me off, tell me to go blow a goat, order me to go back to the RST, or run off shrieking like a little wuss girl. (Grins.)

Dante: You truly ARE amazing.

Randal: (Slaps porno down on counter and shells out money.) Gotta get back to the video store. My shemales are waiting, if ya know what I mean. Rawr.

Dante: (Takes his money and gives him change.) Too much information. And before you go, put the Doritos back.

Randal: With a half-open bag? (Raises an eyebrow.)

Dante: Oh well... Who cares, no one buys those things anyway.

Randal: (Mutters to himself.) Who'd have thought a little bag of fraudulent snack chips could save two lives... (Sighs.) I SO did not see that one coming. (Shakes head, replaces Doritos, and wrangles his way back to the RST.)

= = =

the end.

alex


End file.
